


Three of Swords

by wargoddess



Series: A Family Affair [9]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: BDSM, Bodily Fluids, Exhibitionism, Incest, M/M, Multi, PWP, Parent/Child Incest, Polyamory, Sibling Incest, Tails, Tears, Tentacles, Violent Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 16:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19088572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: Nero worries about his place in their strange little arrangement, now that Dante and Vergil have made up. Problem: maybe the middle of a hunt isn't the best time for existential angst.





	Three of Swords

**Author's Note:**

> By popular demand (well, OK, 2 people asked for this, but that's a lot, for me), the hunt on Nero! As before, consent doesn't mean the same thing to these guys that it does for humans, but the implication of dubcon is there, thus the warning. Also, warning for improbable anal sex mechanics. Look, everybody here is a shapeshifter, and also a masochist. If they need a dick that can function without lube, they've got one. Just don't try this at home, kids.

     It had been a mistake, Nero reflected, to hide.

     An hour had passed, and they still hadn't found him.  It _was_ a damn good hiding place, he knew -- an alcove within the solid old walls of Devil May Cry, near the shittiest of the ceiling fans that Dante was never going to replace, so that the loud creaks of the mechanism would obscure his heartbeat and breathing.  Both Dante and Vergil were excellent trackers, but not miracle workers; Nero had been living at DMC for months, and his scent was all over the place by now.  If they meant to track him down, they'd have to do it the old fashioned way:  by searching until they found him.

     The alcove wasn't big enough for him to do much more than sit in, with his back against an unfinished wall and his knees drawn up.  The entry point was actually two floors down; Nero had discovered a hole in the wall behind the pool table while cleaning one day, and had climbed in to see where it went.  He'd had a vague, admittedly childish notion of searching out any treasures Dante might have hidden within... but to his eternal disappointment, there had been nothing.  Not even rats, since rats were sensible creatures that wouldn't come within a mile of demons, if they could help it.

     But it was becoming increasingly clear that Nero had possibly hidden himself _too_ well.  That, or...

     ...or.  He drew in a slow breath and let it out with less care than he should have, given that he was in hiding.  But.  It had to be faced:  maybe they weren't even looking for him.

     That was good, though, wasn't it?  If they'd abandoned him, and turned their attention to each other.  Things had been so tense lately.  It had driven Nero half crazy to be around them, to _know_ how much each missed the other, but to then watch them glare at one another or avoid each other or talk in cold, sparring circles.  Most of the hostility had been coming from Dante, and that was bad.  Nero didn't understand Dante any more than he did Vergil, but it was painfully obvious that when someone as easygoing as Dante was pissed off, Vergil must have really, _really_ fucked up.  What really worried Nero was that, every now and again, he'd felt... weird, in Dante's presence.  Nervous.  Twitchy.  The demon in him pinged _Danger_ now and again, in a way that it never had before.  At completely ridiculous times, too, like when Dante was taking a nap at his desk, or while Nero was doing the dishes and Dante was just reading the paper at the table behind him.  And every time that weird ping had come, he'd noticed Vergil lurking somewhere nearby, apparently by chance.

     So yeah, he was pretty sure he didn't want to know what that meant.  The important thing was that it had stopped.  With his own ears, he'd heard Vergil say that he was sorry -- holy shit -- and with his own eyes he'd seen Dante forgive him.  Then poof, no more tension.  Dante had even started blasting his shitty music again, probably to the consternation of DMC's neighbors.

     But now that Vergil and Dante seemed to be working things out --

     No.

     Maybe, now that they'd begun to settle into not just stability, but comfort with each other, even open love --

     _No_.  He was conjuring bullshit.  Like he always did when he had too much time to think.

     -- maybe they didn't need him anymore.

     Okay.  No.  That was _bullshit_.  Dante liked him, a little, sometimes.  (But like was not the same as need.)  Vergil...  Nero shifted a little in the cramped alcove, and touched his bottom lip with a thumb.  Did Vergil need him?  He certainly enjoyed using Nero for sex, but that wasn't a need, either.  He had Dante for that, already -- and, shit, Vergil could have anybody he wanted.  That was why Nero existed, wasn't it?  Some human woman somewhere had probably eyeballed him, thought he was hot, and overlooked that little warning tingle at the back of her brain that said _Maybe not this one, honey_.  Or maybe she was as turned on by that tingle as Nero could be, sometimes.  Maybe she'd been into pain, too, though obviously Vergil had held back enough not to kill her.  Maybe Nero got his libido not from being a demon, but from his mom.  Maybe -- okay, he _really_ needed to stop thinking about this.

     It was clear that Vergil liked Nero too, or at least liked having a son who was powerful and therefore a reflection of his own strength... but no.  It had to be more than that.  The way Vergil touched him, sometimes... maybe.  Maybe it was more.

     Or.  Maybe he was dead weight.  Maybe he was a third wheel.  Maybe they would get tired of him eventually, and drive him away, and leave him to wander the earth alone forever --

     With a soft groan, Nero let his head fall back against the wall.  It wasn't like he was lonely.  He'd lost Credo, and he and Kyrie weren't together anymore, but he still had her as a friend.  He had Nico as his bratty little sister of the heart, and Trish and Lady liked him all right, even if he was technically the competition.

     _Friends_ and _sisters_ needed him, but that wasn't the same.  Dante and Vergil had something amazing, when they weren't trying to kill each other.  Nero wanted to be part of the amazing.  But how could he possibly be?  Ever?

     His eyes stung.  "Fuck," he muttered, and scrubbed angrily at them, swallowing against the lump in his throat.  "What the hell is wrong with me?"

     A clawed hand smashed through the lathing beside his head and wrapped around his neck tightly enough to choke.  "Exactly my question," Vergil said, before wrenching Nero bodily through the wall and throwing him across the room.

     _Shit!_   Nero had completely forgotten about the hunt.  Heart pounding, he caught himself against the opposite wall, manifesting claws so he could dig in, already searching frantically for an escape route and praying that Dante wasn't nearby enough to box him in --

     He took his eyes off Vergil for half a second, and Vergil vanished.

     Nero moved without thinking, knowing only that the attack was coming, even if he had no idea from where.  He got approximately six inches before a fist like a mountain came down on the middle of his back, slamming him into, and partially through, the floor.  Instinct made him kick out, but a hand caught his ankle mid-kick, snatched him out of the floor-rut he'd been in, held him while Vergil elbowed him in the face, then flipped him around and slammed him back into the same floor-rut.  He must have held back a little, because Nero did not go through the floor.  Apart from that, however, he made it extremely clear that he was in no mood to brook resistance.

     _Fucking asshole_ , Nero thought in blurry annoyance, trying to move and not managing much more than a flail or two.

     A claw, deft as a scalpel, drew a light, fiery line down Nero's spine.  He snarled feebly at the realization that Vergil was slicing through the loops of his coat.  _Seriously?!_   Fucker was probably still mad about what Nero had done to his pants the day before.  And fine, Nero had been planning to have the loops redone in red anyway, but...  The claw continued, parting his belt and slitting open his pants.  A hand perfunctorily yanked up one of Nero's limp legs to finish the job at the front of his pants.  Then that hand started efficiently divesting him of the halves of his clothing.

     "Disappointing," Vergil said as he worked.  His voice seemed to reverberate in Nero's bones.  Jesus, was he hurt that bad?  "You hid well.  But to give yourself away..."  He "tsked."

     "Fuck you," Nero growled -- or tried to.  With his face buried in broken floorboards, it was more like _fuh ooh_.  He flailed again, however, and managed to pull himself up, a little.  He had to stop then, propped on his elbows, breathing slowly to try and clear his head.

     "Yes," Vergil said.  Nero could almost hear his smile.  "Thank you for the invitation, though of course, it was unnecessary.  But that defiance, that _arrogance_ , is what always pleases me about you, Nero.  I hope you fight me today."  He rolled Nero onto his back, and then something in his gaze sharpened.  "Tears?  Were you crying?"

     Irritated, Nero immediately tried to get up.  Vergil dropped a knee on his midriff, so he couldn't budge.  "No, I wasn't," Nero snapped, belatedly trying to turn his face away.  Vergil's hand caught his jaw and held his face still.  Then he leaned down, closer, closer, and Nero inhaled in real fear when Vergil opened his mouth, teeth gleaming, above Nero's eye --

     And his tongue touched the corner of Nero's eye.  Nero flinched, shutting his eyes in reflex, and that was worse.  In the darkness there was only sound and sensation:  Vergil's tongue, licking, pressing harder, not just drinking his tears but _seeking_ them.  And did Vergil's fingers tremble, just a little, at the taste?  Was that his breath quickening?  A hotter, sharper scent -- arousal, thick and thickening -- around them?

     God.  Every time Nero thought he'd figured out the monsters that he lived with, they showed him some new level of what-the-fuck.  And every time, because it had to be admitted that Nero's dick had started to perk right up, they also found ways to remind him that he belonged among them.  Oh, yes he did.

     When Vergil finally pulled away, his own eyes were shut.  After a moment he let out a small, satisfied sigh, then gazed down at Nero in open hunger. 

     "Jesus Christ," Nero breathed, shivering inadvertently.

     "Not today."  Then, never taking his eyes from Nero, Vergil raised his voice.  "I don't think I feel like sharing, this time."

     Nero blinked, pulled out of the spell of his father's gaze, and belatedly he registered that he'd heard a familiar set of boots walk into the room.  "Yeah, I was getting that impression," Dante drawled from somewhere over by the door.  "Well, by right this prey is yours to devour; I do not dispute your claim.  But can I watch?"

     A slow smile spread across Vergil's lips, all teeth.  "Of course, brother.  Good art is best admired in good company."  He sat up, gazing down at Nero with something that approached his usual detached expression, but veered just a little off.  His nostrils flared with his breathing, and there was hellfire, blue-hot, in his gaze.  He stood up, however, and began to undress.  "Why were you crying?"

     Nero shifted enough to push himself up on his elbows, trying not to stare too obviously, because the next best thing to Vergil with that look in his eye was Vergil naked with that look in his eye.  And he could see the lovely promise of Vergil's cock against the front of his trousers... Jesus, Nero's mouth was watering. 

     But.  "I, uh," Nero said, then looked away.  Pointless to deny his tears with Vergil still licking his lips after the taste, but he wasn't ready to start confessing his insecurities to his father.  "I don't know."

     Vergil lifted an eyebrow at the lie, then "hmmphed" a little in dismissal. 

     Then he was nude, and proud and glorious, running a hand through his hair to smooth it back because he fucking _knew_ he was glorious, and Nero wanted him so bad it hurt.  Vergil smiled as if he'd heard this thought.

     Then he exhaled, shutting his eyes for a moment and flexing his shoulders back as if to stretch -- and an instant later, Nero yelped as something sinuous and dark, thick as an arm and at least ten feet long, whipped up his calf and between his legs and around his waist and under his arm and around his neck.  He knew better than to fight, but he couldn't help grabbing for the thing out of sheer panic.  Vergil hissed in warning, and the dark thing -- a snake? -- tightened like a steel band around Nero's throat.  Nero had to fight every instinct for self-preservation within himself to do it, but after a moment he lowered his hands.  He was still twitchy with tension, breathing hard with aborted fight-or-flight adrenaline, but it was apparently close enough to submission to satisfy Vergil, because the thing relaxed enough that he could breathe without wheezing.

     And then Nero blinked as the tip of it curled into view:  a strange pointed thing, needle-sharp at the tip but flaring out into a ridged ring of spines, which then blended into a long column adorned with overlapping black, blue-edged scales.  _Familiar_ black, blue-edged scales, which rasped along his skin with a soft whispering sound that Nero sometimes heard in his darkest, sweetest dreams.

     "Oh, fuck," Nero groaned as he understood.  Vergil's goddamned _tail_.

     Vergil crouched beside him, gaze avid and bright blue.  He glowed all over, in fact, limned by the power that it took for him to hover somewhere between human shape and the glory of his truest form.  "Now," he purred, with an echo of thunder in his voice that sent a thrill down Nero's spine, in spite of everything.  "Let's see if we can't get a few more tears out of you, why don't we?"

     The world spun as Vergil's tail whipped Nero upright, around, and back against his father's body.  Now they both stood on their knees, or rather Nero was held entwined in that position, knees off the floor, helpless. Nero was still blinking in disorientation when Vergil took hold of his hips with one hand and positioned himself with the other, then drove into Nero in one steady, searing, mercilessly unlubricated stroke.  Nero shouted every curse word in every language he knew, arching away from the pain in pure reflex.  Vergil merely put a hand on his belly and pulled him back into place.

     "Stop whining," Vergil said into his ear.  His tail flexed, just so, and Nero jumped again because his dick was achingly hard and the stroke of the tail felt like heaven.  "We both know you enjoyed that."

     "Y-yeah, but it's the _principle_ of the thing," Nero stammered through his shakes, grinning in spite of himself.  God, there was so much wrong with him.

     Vergil chuckled as well, and Nero felt the press of lips against the back of his shoulder, just to the side of the loop of tail.  It was an astonishingly gentle kiss, given that in the same movement he gripped Nero's hips and then started fucking him so hard that Nero saw stars.  The tail kept him still, however, disippating none of Vergil's force through momentum or inertia.  Everything for Nero.  It hurt like hell, and it was perfect.  The beast in Nero purred through his mind and arched his back so that he could take more, because why wouldn't he?  It was an honor to receive such favor from a former king of hell.  Also, it was _so_ fucking good...

     ...and he was going to come much, much too soon if he didn't do something about that tail.

     He had to move slowly.  Hard to control his limbs when his whole body had relaxed in service to the storm, and did not want to resist even in this small way.  But hadn't Vergil said that he wanted some fight from Nero?  There were ways to fight that respected the rules of the hunt.  The demon in him was pleased by the notion, so Nero's hands found the loose end of Vergil's tail, just beneath where it broadened into that glorious, deadly star-shaped tip.  The tip hovered before Nero's face, an omnipresent threat, but Nero felt its twitch of surprise when his fingers ghosted around the sharp rim.  The points cut his fingers, but he barely noticed such small, nothing pain.  Instead he tugged -- gently, an asking and not a demand, it was not his place to control this encounter in any way, but he could _influence_ , if Vergil allowed -- and the tip came closer to his face.  He curled his free hand around the scaly, muscular circumference of it, and opened his mouth, and drew the tip of his tongue along one of the tapering ridges.

     Vergil's breath caught, and for an instant the relentless jolt of his thrusts faltered, before resuming.  Nero grinned breathlessly, and put a point on his side of the score.

     When he found the tail's needle-tip, however, he would have licked it, but Vergil drew his tail a little away.  "Careful," he said, his voice hot velvet in Nero's ear.  Nero had felt him watching every lick.  Now he felt the heat of Vergil's breath, felt the tickle as Vergil's tongue -- long, black, forked -- flickered for a moment under Nero's jaw to taste his sweaty skin.  "Poison."

     Nero laughed raggedly, the laugh broken by the rhythmic jolting of Vergil's thrusts.  "Figures."

     Vergil rumbled in amusement, too.  His tail flexed against Nero's cock again, and Nero hissed as if it had burned him, through the sensation was the exact opposite of pain.  It felt _too_ good, in fact, and he bit his lip as he felt the familiar ingathering of tension in the pit of his belly.  Before the climax could peak, however, the tail eased up, leaving Nero aching.  He cursed again and tried to fumble for himself, but Vergil grabbed his hands and pulled them away.

     "Ah, look at him, Dante," Vergil said then.  Nero blinked away sweat; he'd forgotten Dante was there.  That was because Dante had found a chair somewhere on the other side of the room, and now he sat forward, elbows propped on his knees, fingers threaded together.  Above his folded hands, Nero saw his uncle's eyes gleaming, gray and serious.  Vergil kissed Nero's shoulder again, and this time Nero felt the graze of needle-teeth.  He groaned aloud, needing more, needing the bite, needing to come, needing more fucking.  Needing.  Instead he got Vergil's soft, admiring sigh.  "I want to conquer hell again just to make him a prince on its throne.  The tie that binds us."

     Dante nodded over his hands, though Nero saw the edge of his smile.  "The fuel that ignites us," he agreed.

     Vergil growled and bent Nero forward a little, bracing one hand on the floor and gripping his hips tighter, holding him in place as he fucked harder, staying deep now, finding Nero's sweet spot and rolling over it again and again.  Nero cried out in wordless, broken-voiced begging as Vergil pressed his face against his back.  "Ours," Vergil groaned, his own breath starting to falter.  " _Ours_ , Dante."

     And through the haze of bliss -- because Vergil's tail was stroking him again, and between that and the fucking Nero was going to come whether Vergil wanted him to or not, submission be damned -- Nero dimly registered that they were talking about _him_.

     All of the fears that had plagued him in the hiding spot came roaring back, making him whimper in Vergil's grip.  But if they both claimed him --

     Dante uncurled from his seat, and Nero shuddered with each of his slow, measured footfalls.  When Dante bent and cupped a hand under Nero's chin, Nero shut his eyes.  He could not bear more feeling.  He could only moan as Dante murmured, "Our reason.  Yes, brother.  I know."

     Nero sucked in a sob.  _Not_ dead weight.  _Not_ unnecessary.  They would _not_ leave him alone, he was theirs and demons did not relinquish their possessions until death, and that meant --

     -- it meant, oh God, it meant that --

     -- _fuck_ \--

    

 

     He came back to himself a few centuries later.

     He was still wrapped in Vergil's arms and tail, though after a moment he realized this was because otherwise he would have slumped to the floor.  Vergil had rearranged them for comfort, with Nero in his lap.  Nero had flopped upright against him, head lolling back, though the tail-loop kept him facing up.  His shoulder was bleeding where Vergil had finally bitten him, somewhere in the silence.  His ass hurt.  His balls felt dull and spent, aching in a tired sort of way -- and none of it mattered.  Vergil's satisfied growl reverberated through his whole body, but that wasn't what finally brought back the tattered remains of Nero's mind.

     What did that was realizing that Vergil's serpent-tongue had flickered up to tickle at one eye.  And on the other side, Dante had bent to run a human tongue up Nero's cheek.  They had taken an eye apiece, sharing the reward of his tears.

     Fuck.  They were such crazy, ridiculous, beautiful monsters, weren't they?  All of them.

     So Nero laughed, shut his eyes again, and let the tears come.

**Author's Note:**

> (Tail-latio? Tailjob? Mouth-to-tail? How *do* I tag this? I want to warn for these things because they can be either erotic, or deeply squicky.)
> 
> Sigh. Welp, so much for being done. I'm out of family-based titles, and a musical interlude name didn't fit here, so fuck it, let's go with dick jokes.
> 
> Also, I only just discovered that Vergil has a tail in his Sin Devil Trigger form. Why does only he have a tail? Dante and Nero don't. What the hell is going on in canon Vergil's psyche that he's got this giant phallic symbol attached to his ass? Is he... compensating? I don't want to think about this anymore.
> 
> (Tears fetish? Tearnilingus?)


End file.
